Gapskipping and Ice
by Sir Gwydion
Summary: Would-Be-Plots, Story Two. Second in a sequence of bits of plot from the original idea I had for Bloodhound on the Scent, but that didn't fit with the final version of the outline, turned into short stories. Starring, of course, Beka and Rosto.


**Greetings!  
**

**Here's my second would-be-plot! It's complementary, _not_ companion, to _Catch As Catch Can _and _Bloodhound on the Scent, _as will be all of my would-bes, but I really suggest reading the others as well. Things might make more sense.**

**Lizzy, I'm not down on romance, just it crowding out all semblance of plot, simply doing away with all the obsticles the author has put in place between the characters. You know the sort, it goes something like 'Mourns that love will not love back/love is another's/love is evil ax-murderer. Love comes. Love kisses. Sigh.'**

**Well, enough whining.**

**Enjoy!**

**Sir Gwydion**

* * *

_Introduction_

_Beka is still a Puppy, but she's considered a Dog by (almost) everyone . When something needs taking care of, she's the one who gets sent, and that's just what's going on right now._

_ Many Dogs grumble that Tunstall and Goodwin have all the luck, with their puppy whose never lost a chase to do all the fetching for them. So many pairs have taken to 'borrowing' Beka, giving one excuse or another. _

_Tunstall and Goodwin aren't precisely happy about this, but there's nothing they can do, since Ahuda finally ordered Goodwin to stop breaking Dog's fingers just for trying to get her Puppy to do their job._

_Finally, things have escalated so much that Ahuda put her foot down. Beka starts the watch with her Dogs, but after mid-watch any pair that's going in for trouble can claim her._

_As you might guess, Beka is not really that happy with the whole arrangement. The Mantel and Pullet does a booming business for Dogs lingering hopefully around Tunstall and Goodwin, hoping to snap Beka up before another pair does. The whole thing is ridiculous. Instead of having a pair of Dogs, she now belongs to the whole dratted Kennel! Any passing Dog feels he has a claim on her, and this results in various, unexpected trips. . ._

* * *

**Gap-skipping and Ice  
**

I never knew why visiting the Old Docks was called gap-skipping until I went there for the first time. . .

-

After dinner at the Mantel and Pullet, I'd walked the Watch with Kammer and Wiscet, two of the younger Dogs. Both of them just transfered from Prettybone, and no one would deny that they're used to easier living. Neither of them has every been in a brawl worth the name, or seen a mob. They don't keep a proper watch out, and haven't a clue what to do in a tricky situation. All of which makes _me _the Dog in charge when its the three of us, for all I'm a Puppy.

Wiscet is forever getting ahead, while Kammer trails behind, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong and will most like get broke. It was almost like looking after Lorine and Will at the Daymarket again, except, thank the gods, this time I didn't have to hold a basket for the groceries and make sure that Diona didn't drop Nico.

When we saw a cove helping himself from a pottery stall whilst the owner's back was turned, Wiscet took a few steps forward, then turned to me questioningly.

"Go on, " I told her, trying not to roll my eyes. "Give the filcher a few broken bones to remind him to keep his ticklers to himself!"

Kammer came meandering up to us from behind, looking back and forth with mild interest. Wiscet turned to face him, and said, in a loud, carrying voice, "What do you think we should do about that man who's robbing the poor potter?"

_Goddess save me from these incompetents! _I thought, for it was too late.

In the bat of an eye the Rat had turned his heels to us. Always eager for a fight, Kammer pulled out his baton and threw it at the cove's departing form. Unfortunately, though not unexpectedly, his aim was awry, and the baton clipped the potter on the ear afore falling with a tremendous mash among the cove's wares.

"See 'ere!" the man cried, and fetched Wiscet, who was nearest, a great wallop on the side of her head. Out came the potter's wife, and began beating a bewildered Kammer with the heft of her broom handle. In a matter of moments, everyone near us in the Nightmarket had joined in.

Grabbing Kammer and Wiscet each under an arm, I dragged them away from the potter's stall, pursed by the potter's wife, the sweet-seller who's stall had been the next on over, a knot of his customers, and a tinker, who seemed to be there just for the thrill of chasing us Dogs.

They were bent on revenge, too. It took us all the way to the Old Docks to shake them off, more then an hour's walk from the Nightmarket.

After assessing the pair of Dogs' condition, I told them to head back to the Kennel for healing. I would go find Tunstall and Goodwin and finish the Watch with them. Arms about each other's shoulder's for support, the two of them limped off for Jane Street.

Curious, I decided to take a look around afore going to find my Dogs. The Old Docks had been abandoned years ago, when the Olorun had washed out the main section in a spring flood. For some reason, they had been rebuilt further up the river, and the Old Docks were left to vagabonds and Rats.

I stepped out on the mossy boards, wanting to see the Olorun from the far edge. At my third step, my foot went a bit too far and didn't hit wood. I looked down, and saw a large section of dock missing. _So that's why they call going to the Old Docks gap-skipping, _I thought, carefully circumventing the area. It didn't seem half so dangerous as I'd always heard. That was one reason I'd never been here before, mama always forbade me and the others to come here, she was that worried we'd--

There was a splintering crack, and the board I was standing on gave way.

-

Rosto woke to the gentle pricking of cat claws on his chest. Instinctively, he had already drawn a dagger from under his pillow, but there was no need.

"Pounce," he said, his voice rough with sleep. "What might you be doing here?"

The cat only stared at him, his purple eyes burning a single word into Rosto's mind.

_Come._

_Well, _he thought, _If I'm having delusions about talking cats, at least Beka has them too. Madness isn't something one likes to do on one's own. _

He climbed out of bed, pulling on some clothes, and followed Pounce's twitching black tail.

It was bitterly cold outside, so Rosto decide he wasn't mad after all. Instead, he began to wonder why Pounce had woken him. Only one plausible reason presented itself, and it did nothing to sooth his unease. Beka must be in trouble.

Hurrying a bit to catch up with the cat, who had his tail raised and waving like a battle standard, Rosto briefly considered asking Pounce what was wrong and where they were going, but he decided against it. In all likelihood the cat wouldn't reply, and he would find out soon enough anyway.

But it wasn't soon. It was a full hour's walk through the snowy streets before he saw their destination. The Old Docks; a perilous place by all accounts. There was an indistinct figure sitting a few paces out from the shore. In another half-dozen steps, he could see that it was Beka.

A very disgruntled Beka, by all appearances. The expression on her face, similar to one he'd seen on Goodwin's more then once, would be enough to frighten the bravest.

She pushed a bit of stragling dark blond hair off her forehead and glared at him. He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

She gave in with a sharp sigh. "I acted like a cracknob," she muttered. "My foot's stuck."

Rosto looked. Sure enough, her leg was jammed to the knee through a rotten board, her boot submerged in the icy water.

He couldn't help but laugh at the glare she sent his way. "Of a certainty, " he agreed, still chuckling, "Aren't you supposed to _skip_ the gaps, love?"

"There wasn't one there before," she said with some dignity.

Rosto bit back another smile and bent over the rotten plank. Except for the one place Beka had stepped on, it was solid. No wonder she hadn't been able to get out. He could see a line running across the board where she had cut at it. He frowned. That should have worked. He asked her why she'd stopped.

Wordlessly, Beka handed him the shattered remains of her knife blade. "My other one's in the top of that boot, so I couldn't get it out."

Rosto scored the line she'd started deeper, then struck the board with the flat of his palm. It fell neatly into the Olorun, running under there feet.

Beka stretched her leg out, then stood, putting her weight on her wet foot. If Rosto hadn't caught her, she have pitched right into the hole she'd so recently escaped.

"You're foot must be numb after being in the water so long," he said, putting an arm around her waist to support her.

"Pins and needle," she agreed, shivering.

Pounce at their heels, they started back for the Dancing Dove. After a few minutes, Rosto stopped and Turned Beka to face him. Softly, he kissed her.

_Well, _he told himself, _I did save her. Doesn't that earn me something? _He wasn't convinced though. He knew himself too well to say that he wouldn't have kissed her anyway.

A sudden shock cold poured down his back. He pulled away, startled. She'd dumped a handful of snow down the back of his neck!

"What was that for?" he asked, gasping a little from the cold.

Beka grinned at him, shaking the ice crystals off her hand.

"For being so smug, you great looby!"


End file.
